Inverted images by an artist born in Germany at a gallery in London

CERTAIN IMAGES IMMEDIATELY come to mind when the names of some artists are mentioned. For Vincent Van Gogh it is sunflowers; for Claude Monet it is waterlilies; for Salvador Dali it is melting clocks; and for Edvard Munch it is “The Scream”. In the case of the German artist Georg Baselitz (born as ‘Hans-Georg Kern’ in Deutschbaselitz, Saxony, Germany in1938), mentioning his name conjures up inverted images: paintings in which the images appear to be upside down. He signs them with his signature, but it is not upside down.

Recently, we viewed an exhibition of this octogenarian’s latest paintings at the White Cube Gallery in London’s Bermondsey Street. The show is on until the 16th of June 2024. If you miss it, you will not have missed much worth seeing. As you can tell, I was not over-impressed by what I saw, but it did get me thinking about why the artist often chooses to paint his subjects – human and others – upside down.

Does he choose to do this because his childhood in Germany was spent in a country that had been turned upside down by the Nazi regime, the 2nd World War, and its immediate aftermath in the early years of the German Democratic Republic? The White Cube website quotes the artist as having said:

“I’ve got my early childhood drawings of eagles, stags, deer, dogs and so on in folders,’ Baselitz remarks. ‘Every now and then I look at them, and I think was it a good time, was it a bad time?”

Or does he paint his images upside down to attract the viewer – to make his artwork ‘stand out from the crowd’? Alternatively, does he invert his images so that the viewer is forced to consider not only the subject matter, but also his painting techniques (brush strokes, colour choices, and so on)?

I do not know the answers to these questions. However, I am glad I have seen the exhibition, which did not particularly thrill me, because it did stimulate me to consider his art a little more that I had expected.

Women with many heads on canvases at an art gallery in central London

TODAY, WE VIEWED an exhibition of paintings by an artist born in India, who spent most of her life in the British Isles. The artist is Gurminder Sikand (1960-2021), who was born in Jamshedpur, but moved to the Rhondda Valley in South Wales with her parents in 1970. Her artistic training was first at the Cardiff College of Art and Design (in 1979-80) and then at the City of Birmingham Polytechnic (now Birmingham City University), where she was awarded a fine art degree. In 1983, she and her husband moved to Nottingham. Her work began to attract wide attention after one of her pieces was selected as the winner of the East Midlands Art Prize by the South African artist Gavin Jantjes.

In an obituary written by her husband, published in thegauardian.com on the 14th of February 2022, it was noted that her work:

“… was characterised by images of strong women. This was true of her many self-portraits, her paintings influenced by Indian folk art, her watercolours of women hugging trees (inspired by the Chipko anti-deforestation movement), and latterly her drawings of muscular female figures whose physiques reflected Gurminder’s workouts at her city-centre gym in Nottingham.”

The paintings we saw today (22nd of May 2024) at the Maximillian William gallery in London’s Fitzrovia were some of Gurminder’s earlier works, created between 1986 and 1992. Most of the 19 works include depictions of women. All of them are slightly mysterious, but also eye-catching. Many of them include women with several heads. I wondered whether in creating these she was thinking about Hindu deities that are often shown as having many arms. As far as I am aware few, if any, Hindu deities are shown in images as having more than one head, but seeing Gurminder’s women with many heads made me think about the multi-limbed deities in Hindu imagery.

Trees also figure prominently in many of the paintings we saw. Regarding this and her painting style, the gallery’s press release has this to say:

“Images of women drawn from Indian mythology recur throughout Sikand’s work. Her interest in the figure of the goddess – particularly the Hindu goddess Kali, who both destroys and creates the world anew, and is often pictured with a garland of human heads – is evident in her depictions of women metamorphosing into nature. In Sikand’s paintings, women are seeds buried in soil, hang on tree branches to provide shelter, or are even the earth and sky themselves. These amorphous relationships between the figure and nature were further inspired by the Chipko environmental movement, which began in north India during the 1970s, when villagers – mostly women – embraced trees at risk of deforestation, a protest that also highlighted their primary role as caregivers. Sikand’s female figures are often portrayed as strong: appearing resolute with multiple heads or acting as protectors over her landscapes.”

Although Gurminder left India when she was only 10 years old, and was then immersed in British life, culture, and education, her Indian heritage never deserted her, and is expressed in her wonderful paintings. I enjoyed viewing this well-displayed exhibition, and I recommend seeing it before it ends on the 29th of June 2024.

Exploring some unknowns in London’s fashionable Mayfair

I HAVE NO IDEA how many commercial art galleries there are in Central London. Today (the 14th of May 2024), we visited an art gallery, whose existence was previously unknown to us, and there we saw an exhibition of works by an artist, who was also new to us. The gallery is Carl Kostyal in Savile Row. Its discreet entrance is sandwiched between two fashionable tailors’ stores. Half Hungarian and half Swedish, Carl Kostyál opened his gallery in Savile Row in 2010. Three years later, he opened another gallery in Stockholm.

The artist, whose work is being exhibited, is Leo Park, who was born in Sweden in 1980. His exhibition in Savile Row is called “Beyond Pleasure”. It consists mostly of large paintings, but also a wall covered with a mosaic of small sketches, The beautifully executed artworks are eye-catching, and reminded me a little of the works of some of the pre-WW2 Surrealists. The paintings and sketches are of imagined forms that immediately made me think of human bodies. The images are clearly meant to evoke such thoughts, but looked at objectively, they are all shapes that do not exist in nature. The paintings and drawings are all displayed in the beautifully restored rooms of the 18th century building that houses the gallery.

The show ends on the 2nd of June 2024, and is well worth visiting.

Paintings by artists in India who escaped from western European artistic traditions – at the Brunei Gallery

WHENEVER I VISITED my in-laws in India, I used to admire the painting by the Bengali artist Jamini Roy (1887-1972), which used to hang in their flat. His style of painting was both modern (20th century) and at the same time almost folkloric. When our friend Bob Annibale posted on Facebook about an exhibition at the Brunei Gallery (in London’s Bloomsbury) that included Roy’s works, we could not resist visiting it, and we were glad we viewed it.

The exhibition, which continues until the 22nd of June 2024, not only contains a good selection of Roy’s works, but also others by Bengali artists working mainly between the late 19th century and the 1950s. Apart from works by Roy’s contemporaries including various members of the Tagore family, Hemendranath Mazumdar, Nandalal Bose, and Qamrul Hassan, there were also paintings by lesser-known or unknown artists who painted in the traditional late 19th century Bengali (Kalighat) style, rather than in experimental styles of the 20th century.

The emergence of modern Indian painting was a consequence of the establishment of The Government College of Art in Calcutta (in 1854). As the website of the Brunei Gallery explained, it was:

“… established by a benevolent government for the purpose of revealing to the Indians the superiority of European art.”

In the late 19th century, Indian artists working in the college began questioning the validity of Indians painting in the alien Western European fashion that was being taught them. The gallery’s website continued:

“Academic art, introduced by the British Raj, was challenged by the nationalist art movement, the Bengal School of painting, led by Abanindranath Tagore (1871-1951) and his disciples who dominated the art scene in the first decades of the twentieth century.”

It is works by these artists, who used their creations as part of their expressions of desire to see India free of British rule, that form the greater part of the show at the Brunei.

Several things particularly interested me whilst viewing the excellently curated and displayed exhibition. One was three paintings by Jamini Roy that illustrate Christian themes (e.g., the Crucifixion, the Last Supper, and the Flight to Egypt). I had not before seen any of Roy’s paintings depicting Christian stories.  Another exciting discovery for me were a selection of paintings by Sunayani Devi (1875-1962), who was the sister of the artists Abanindranath Tagore and Gaganendranath Tagore, some of whose pictures are also hung in the show. These 3 siblings had a famous uncle, Rabindranath Tagore, some of whose paintings were also on show. At the exhibition, there were portraits of Rabindranath Tagore by each of his above-mentioned relatives, and one by Jamini Roy.

Yet another artist on show, whom I had never encountered, is Qamrul Hassan (1921-1988), who was born later than the other artists. Born in Calcutta before independence and the Bangladesh War (1971), he died in what is now Bangladesh. He studied at The Government College of Art in Calcutta in the late 1930s, and afterwards became involved with left wing political activities as well as his art. Later, he was active in the struggle for East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) to become independent of what was then West Pakistan. Beneath one of his creations at the Brunei, there is a quotation by Qamrul about his style of painting:

“… where Jamini Roy ends , I begin …”

And this is so easy to see in the excellent exhibition at the Brunei Gallery

I have told you what stood out for me, but although I have highlighted a few things, the rest of the exhibits are wonderful, and not to be ‘sniffed at’. After seeing the show, I thought that never before had I seen such a fine and large collection of paintings by the liberated artists either here in the UK or in India. The curators of this show deserve hearty congratulations.

A small exhibition of watercolours at London’s Wallace Collection and an artist who was unknown to me

SEVERAL OF THE GALLERIES within London’s Wallace Collection in London’s Manchester Square, have an overwhelming number of paintings crowded together on their walls. One of these galleries contains several paintings by Richard Parkes Bonington (1802-1828), which I doubt I would have focussed on had I not just seen a small temporary exhibition in a room on the ground floor. The exhibition is called “Turner and Bonington: Watercolours from the Wallace Collection”, and is on until the 12th of May 2024. It contains 10 watercolours (of landscapes) held by the Wallace Collection – four by JMW Turner (1775-1851) and the rest by his short-lived contemporary Bonington. Each of the watercolours is delightful and well-executed. Bonington’s watercolours are delicately crafted, but less adventurous than those of Turner. Because they are so sensitive to damage by light, these watercolours are rarely displayed. The last time they were exhibited was 17 years ago.

Watercolour by Bonington

Now, I had heard of Turner and have seen many of his works, but today (the 29th of March 2024) was the first time I became aware of Bonington. He was born near Nottingham and by the age of 11 was exhibiting watercolours at the Liverpool Academy. In 1817, he and his family moved to Calais (France), where his father set up a business. From there they moved to Paris in 1818. During his time in France, Bonington learned painting from French artists and soon became a friend of the French artist Eugene Delacroix. In 1820, he became a student at the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris. Some of his oil paintings were displayed in the Paris Salon of 1822, and elsewhere. By 1825, he had developed a method of mixing gouache with watercolour, which produced an effect close to what could be achieved with oil paints. After making trips to various parts of France, northern Italy, Venice, and London, he developed tuberculosis. He died in London, where his parents had sent him for treatment. In 1861, many years after Bonington died, Delacroix wrote in a letter (quoted in a Wikipedia article):

“To my mind, one can find in other modern artists qualities of strength and of precision in rendering that are superior to those in Bonington’s pictures, but no one in this modern school, and perhaps even before, has possessed that lightness of touch which, especially in watercolours, makes his works a type of diamond which flatters and ravishes the eye, independently of any subject and any imitation.”

I wish I could have thought of those words, which chime with what I thought after seeing Bonington’s watercolours and some of his many oil paintings now hanging in the Wallace Collection – a London address that no art lover should miss visiting.

An artist from Bengal and the freedom struggle of Mahatma Gandhi

BENGALI ARTIST NANDALAL Bose (1882-1966) was chosen as the artist to provide illustrations for the ceremonial manuscript of the Constitution of India. A few copies of these images are currently (January 2024) on display at Bangalore’s National Gallery of Modern Art (‘NGMA’).

Bose was part of an international group of artists who were endeavouring to revive classical Indian culture and art. Because of this, he came into contact with Japanese artists. Their painting techniques influenced the way Nandalal painted. This can be seen in many of his works on display at the NGMA in a temporary exhibition of a selection of his Haripura Panels, which is on until April 2024.

The ear cleaner at work

In 1938, the 51st session of the Indian National Congress was held in Haripura (now in Gujarat). Mahatma Gandhi asked Nandalal Bose to paint a series of panels depicting Indian village life in such a way that the images would be easily accessible to the common people (villagers etc.). Bose obliged, creating about 400 colourful paintings on handmade paper, using organic (rather than industrial) coloured paints. 77 of these are in the exhibition at Bangalore’s NGMA.

Each of the 77 panels is a delight to behold. They look as if they have been done quickly and highly competently by an artist with a decisive mind. On many if them, the influence of Japanese painting can be discerned. However, on every panel the subject matter is unmistakably Indian. Some of the panels depict scenes from village life (fir example, a potter at work, a tailor, wrestlers, making butter, etc) and others show animals and mythological scenes. One panel depicts an ear cleaner – a man is shown cleaning a lady’s ear with a long thin instrument. Villagers visiting the pandal (temporary shelter), which was decorated with these panels, would have had no trouble recognising Bose’s scenes of daily rural life. And political delegates would have been reminded of Gandhi’s professed allegiance to the ‘common’ people of India. Seeing these wonderful panels made me think of Socialist Realism images, but Bose’s paintings have a human touch that is lacking in politically inspired art such as Socialist Realism.

The exhibition at the NGMA is well hung and nicely lit. The panels hang in the galleries which were once rooms in the elegant Manikvelu Mansion. Several informative panels provide interesting information about Bose, his art and his association with Gandhi and his attempt to rid India of British domination.

Wild silk beside the East Sussex sea shore

THERE IS A NIGERIAN woven fabric called ‘sanyan’. Made mostly by the Yoruba people, its principal ingredient is a type of wild silk. The fabric is thick and resembles denim or canvas in texture. Strips of sanyan are sewn together to make garments and other items. During a recent visit to the Hastings Contemporary Art Gallery, which stands close to the seashore, we saw an exhibition of paintings made on sanyan cloths.

The creator of these images is Nigerian born Nengi Omuku who was born in Lagos (Nigeria) in 1987. It is there that this artist, who trained at the Slade School of Fine Art in London, now works. Before becoming an artist, Nengi worked in her mother’s florist shop, eventually coming into contact with art when she began making preparatory drawings for customers’ garden planning.

Nengi’s exhibition at Hastings is called “The Dance of People and the Natural World”and is on until the 3rd of March 2024. The artist took large sheets of sanyan fabric, consisting of strips of sanyan sewn tightly together, and then coated them with a gesso ground. When this was ready, she then used oil  paints to create images. Whether it was her painting technique or some property of the material upon which she applied the colours, the resulting images have a uniquely haunting, other-worldly quality that I have not seen in other artists’ works.  

The paintings are well displayed. They have been hung away from the walls so that one can look at their backs. By looking behind the paintings, you can see the stitching that holds the pieces of sanyan together as well as beads of the gesso ground that had oozed between the adjoining strips. By looking closely at the paintings, the joins between the constituent strips of sanyan can easily be detected (see photograph above). These create an interesting surface texture quite unlike the canvas usually used by painters.

I enjoyed the exhibition not only because the artwork was attractive but also because I became aware of an interesting fabric, which is in common use in Nigeria.

Inspired in the twenty-first century by fifteenth century art

THE WORD ‘INSPIRATION’ has at least two meanings. One of them is ‘to breathe in (i.e., inhale air). When air is inhaled, many of the oxygen molecules it contains are converted to become other substances, some of which is carbon dioxide that is exhaled. Another meaning of the word is to be mentally stimulated, often by something one has perceived in the world around us. What results from this form of inspiration might not much resemble whatever it was that caused it. Today (the 6th of August 2023), we visited a small exhibition in one room of London’s National Gallery. Showing until the 29th of October 2023, the exhibition is called “Paula Rego: Crivelli’s Garden”.

The exhibition contains two major works: “La Madonna della Rondine (The Madonna of the Swallow)” painted in about 1490 by Carlo Crivelli (c1435-1495); and “Crivelli’s Garden” painted in the early 1990s by Paola Rego (1935-2022) when she was the National Gallery’s first Associate Artist between 1990 and 1992. There are also some sketches that Rego made for her enormous painting, originally designed to be a mural.

Both the Crivelli and the Rego paintings are excellent, but quite different in style. However, Rego was inspired to create her mural after seeing Crivelli’s altarpiece. Although both paintings are of religious subjects, there is no obvious similarity between the two of them. As Paola Rego said in 1992:

“If the story is ‘given’ I take liberties with it to make it conform to my own experiences and to be outrageous.”

And that is what she has done after having been inspired by Crivelli’s masterpiece.

The paintings at the base of Crivelli’s altarpiece (the ‘predella’) include scenes set in gardens. According to the National Gallery’s website, what Rego did was to reimagine:

“…Crivelli’s house and garden to explore the narratives of women in biblical history and folklore based on paintings across the collection and stories from the medieval Golden Legend. Her figures inspired by the Virgin Mary, Saint Catherine, Mary Magdalene and Delilah, share the stage with other women from biblical and mythological histories.”

She has populated her picture with portraits of people she knew including (to quote the website again):

“…friends, members of her family and staff at the National Gallery whom she asked to sit for her, including Erika Langmuir, Lizzie Perrotte and Ailsa Bhattacharya who were members of the Education Department at the time.”

The resulting work is both beautiful and fascinating, but quite different from the 15th century work which had inspired her.

Whether your artistic preferences are for art created during the Italian Renaissance or in the late 20th century, this small exhibition will not disappoint you. If you enjoy both, as I do, then this inspiring show of artistic inspiration is a ‘must see’ event.

A painting of Hampstead at Sotheby’s auction house

THE ARTIST JOHN Constable (1776-1837) lived at various addresses in London’s Hampstead. There, he created many sketches and paintings. He was extremely interested in depicting clouds – difficult subjects for an artist to portray convincingly, but Constable was able to do it well. Hampstead, high above most of the rest of London, provided a good spot for an artist interested in creating pictures of meteorological phenomena. High above the built-up parts of the city with no obstructions in his field of vision, Constable was able to set up his easel under a vast sky.

Recently (5th of June 2023), we visited the pre-auction viewing rooms at Sotheby’s in New Bond Street. In one of the galleries, paintings by ‘Old Masters’ were on display. One of them, which caught my eye, was by Constable, and labelled “Study for Hampstead Heath with a rainbow”. Valued at between £300,000 and £400,000, this picture includes a pond in the foreground; two people on the edge of the pond; some trees; a windmill with some small buildings near it; and a flock of birds flying above a small hill. This rustic scene is lovely, but what really catches the viewer’s attention is the sky. Constable has painted billowing clouds, which almost completely hide the clear sky behind them. Some of the clouds are white and others are ominously grey. Almost as accurate as a photograph, this cloudscape does more than slavishly reproduce what the artist saw – it manages to evoke what he must have felt seeing these clouds. And given the fleeting, ever-changing appearances of clouds, the artist must have worked swiftly to capture the celestial scene he saw.

Although I know that Hampstead once had a windmill near Whitestone Pond (now remembered by a lane called Windmill Hill), judging by its surroundings, the pond in the picture was not Whitestone. It might have been one that local enthusiasts he reconstructed recently – located beside Branch Hill. There is a painting in the Tate Gallery’s collections called “Branch Hill Pond, Hampstead Heath, with a Boy Sitting on a Bank”, which has a similar appearance to that which I saw in Sotheby’s, except that there is no windmill. Constable made many paintings and sketches that included the Branch Hill Pond, but apart from the picture I saw in Sotheby’s, which is a study rather than a finished work, they do not include a windmill.

A few months ago, I published a book about Hampstead and some of its interesting neighbours (including Highgate, West Hampstead, and Primrose Hill). Some people have wondered about the title I chose. It was because of Constable’s fascination with sky and clouds and his years of residence in Hampstead that I chose to give my book about the area the title “Beneath a Wide Sky: Hampstead and its Environs”.

My book is available from Amazon as a paperback or an e-book:https://www.amazon.co.uk/BENEATH-WIDE-SKY-HAMPSTEAD-ENVIRONS/dp/B09R2WRK92/

An artist named Balthus

ON THE LAST DAY of May 2023, I visited the Luxembourg Gallery on London’s Savile Row. My wife and I went to see a small exhibition of paintings and drawings by an artist whose name was not familiar to me – Balthasar Klossowski (1908–2001). Better known as ‘Balthus’, he was according to Wikipedia:

“…known for his erotically charged images of pubescent girls, but also for the refined, dreamlike quality of his imagery.”

Although there were three drawings that fall into the “erotically charged” category, most of the other works on display were delicately executed, attractive paintings. Most of these demonstrate what the gallery’s website described as follows:

“Exercising meticulous control over the form and placement of models, their bodily gestures, as well as the domestic or rural settings in which they reside, Balthus sought to create, at least in appearance, dreamlike scenarios, absent of time and devoid of emotional expression. Yet the restraint in his works results in suggestive and even violent relationships between elements or figures in the picture, as well as in their relation to viewers or the artist himself.”

The results are extremely pleasing to the eye.

The Wikipedia article mentioned something that particularly interested me:

“Throughout his career, Balthus rejected the usual conventions of the art world. He insisted that his paintings should be seen and not read about, and he resisted any attempts made to build a biographical profile. Towards the end of his life, he took part in a series of dialogues with the neurobiologist Semir Zeki, conducted at his chalet at Rossinière, Switzerland and at the Palazzo Farnese (French Embassy) in Rome.”

When I was studying for my BSc in physiology at University College London in the early 1970s, one of my teachers was Semir Zeki, mentioned in the quote above. I recall that he was an excellent teacher, who was able to explain complex topics extremely clearly.

Although I did not know about Balthus nor of Professor Zeki’s connection with him, I am very pleased I visited the Luxembourg Gallery and became aware of such a fine 20th century artist.